


Abnormal

by HarmoniaChimera



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Freak out, Ghoul Sex, Light BDSM, Painful Sex, Penis Size, Violence Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 17:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniaChimera/pseuds/HarmoniaChimera
Summary: Aina just can't help but be attracted to Hancock, even though she's barely met him. And to her surprise, no amount of gore can keep her hormones at bay. If anything, it makes everything even more...thrilling.





	Abnormal

**Author's Note:**

> So for those of you who may have read my [Old Game Save spam on Tumblr](http://fantomofthehiddles.tumblr.com/post/167980303119/never-ever-play-old-saves-fallout-4-edition), this fic isn’t gonna be surprising. This is an effect of replaying first conversations with Hancock, him being very ovulation-inducing, and my sudden realisation, that with his personality, there should have been an in-game option to have a one-night stand with him BEFORE he even becomes a companion, and then still romance him after. So, this is an attempt at fixing that. It also happens to be a spin-off of my [The Machine](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1219065) series which I'm still translating and posting and writing, too.

“How’s my little scout doing?”

The raspy voice and the playful twist to it sent a wave of shivers down her spine. It was impossible, this man’s hold on her, and only after, like, three meetings. Or maybe it was the ovulation. Did it matter?

“You found out what’s happening at Pickman’s Gallery?” he continued while Aina was coming back to reality. And then she, of course, immediately jumped on the sarcasm train. Again.

“Let’s just say Pickman’s art isn’t going to have much resale value once all those bodies start decaying…”

And Hancock, of course, laughed. Again. “Well, they say all artistic inspiration is ephemeral, am I right?” But then his face turned into an expression placing somewhere between sorrow and gentle confusion as he continued, “Wish I could say that was the most twisted thing I’ve ever heard of…” _Hell, me too, Hancock,_ Aina thought. _Me too._ “But it ranks up there… Top three… I’ll put the word out. Tell people to stay clear of that area… Hiring you was definitely one of my better moments.” And again, the goddamn smile returned to his ghoulish face and Aina’s shivers to her spine.

Fahrenheit was circling the room like a lioness, and Aina wasn’t feeling too sure about what she was about to do, but she gulped it down and when Hancock reached for the money, she stopped him with an, “Uh, hold off on that for a sec.”

“What?” That was the first time she saw true surprise on his face and for some reason that gave her unspeakable satisfaction. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I…” She scoffed. “Well, I got six hundred caps worth of loot from the Gallery anyway, so…” She cleared her tightened throat. Her heart was just about to jump out of her chest and onto his lap. Hell, she wasn’t far behind. Fahrenheit stopped nearby and watched her way too closely for her taste.

“So?”

“Well, I just thought maybe we could agree on a different kind of payment for this particular job.” She forced a sort of a shy yet willful half-smile onto her lips; but when Hancock grinned wide at her suggestion, her goddamned ovaries spoke up again and every last doubt fell away. Fahrenheit stared at him in disbelief—Aina could just about see her out of the corner of her eye—as he got up and took a step closer. Aina stifled the sudden impulse to turn away, instead dashing for the one which pushed her to get lost in the bottomless dark pits of his eyes and the peaks and valleys of his radiation-burned skin. She inadvertently licked her lips and Hancock’s mouth twitched into an excited, almost ravenous smile.

That was way too easy, something suddenly spoke up. Way, way too easy. Something was wrong. As sexually liberal as he was from the very beginning, with his glances and his jokes, and his goddamn innuendos, he shouldn’t have so quickly jumped at the idea. Should he?

“Well, now, sister…” He called her that again. That should’ve put her off, shouldn't it? It shouldn’t have made her even hotter. Should it? Maybe it was just the heat radiating from him. Yeah. Probably.

…Was it?

She looked up at him again, and there seemed to be an unspoken question hanging heavily in the air between them. He didn’t jump on the prospect. Damn, he was just about as mistrustful as she was. And now she felt like an idiot. Except there was still that burning feeling ravaging her lower insides and however she tried, there was no way she could ignore it.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you, Hancock,” she said with a little innocent laugh. “I know how this looks, but the absolute honest truth is that… Well, I’m just insanely horny.” He scoffed, but not in the demeaning kind of way, but more leniently. Maybe a bit patronizing. But the atmosphere immediately changed… Okay, maybe except for the one surrounding Fahrenheit. She was still standing there all tense and ready to pounce. But Hancock wasn’t even looking at her. His fiery gaze was fixed on Aina, slowly caressing her face, her lips, her eyes, her chin. Just from that gaze, she could tell exactly what he was thinking of doing to her. And God, how it resonated within. She withdrew a bit, lest she get too caught up in that thrilling discomfort, and said, “I mean, I really hoped that all that gruesome gore I got to see over there would manage to overwrite that, and well, it did, for a while… But then I walked back in here.” She swept him up and down with a perfectly calculated long look. Hancock grinned again. Shook his head a little. She could almost hear the quiet squeaking of the gears turning in his head. He must’ve known about the effect he’d had on her since they first met. Since he first killed for her. He must’ve felt something similar when she did the same for him. Was it really such a long shot that she might decide to act upon it?

There was a certain thrill to that kind of relationship. The same sort of thrill one felt when driving their bayonet into another’s chest, feeling the bone give in, the air hissing out, the soft  _squish_  of a dying heart. Same thrill one felt when their own blood was gushing out and spraying the pavement, and it became painfully apparent the only thing standing between them and the cold end was a single  _swoosh_  of an injection. The thrill of the barrel heating up as heads exploded into a  _splash_  of brains and bone, the thrill of the shells hitting the bricks,  _chink chink chink chink chink_ , of the realization that as life leaves the eyes of one’s enemies, something wild and primal rises up in one’s chest, something dreadfully close to the taste of victory and dominance. And as she remembered Hancock, blood still dripping from his knife and the reddened cuff of his shirt, stepping away from the groaning husk of a joke of a man, asking her if she was all right… and with that goddamn “sister” of his… Oh, that thrill was right there, pushing up against her pelvis as if trying to burst out all over her jumpsuit.

Hancock stared at her for a minute, that long, burning stare as he fought within himself, and then, as if something broke inside like a dam, he came to a decision. He turned his face—just a little, not to lose sight of her—and said, “Fahr, you mind stepping out, maybe holding the door?”

Aina felt a wave of excitement and warmth, and  _shivers_  flooding her entire self, both inside and out. She wasn’t even trying to fight it anymore. Sure, there still was the small, miserable voice piping up as it was pushed even farther and farther into the back of her mind, telling her it was  _abnormal_  that she should let a man like that… not even a  _man_ , mind you… work her  _like that_ , that she should betray the memory of her husband  _like that_ , that she should allow for something  _like that_ … But it was quieter and quieter with each split second, until all that was left behind was just the question: Like what? She really,  _really_  wanted to find out. Abnormal or not.

“I do, actually, Hancock,” Fahrenheit said, however. “This isn’t right. You don’t even know this woman.”

“Never stopped me before,” he said with another one of his smiles which seemed to grow warmer and fonder every next time he looked at her, but then it was as if he acknowledged his bodyguard’s concerns, ‘cause he reached for Aina’s shoulder and slowly, intimately, slid the rifle’s strap off of it. His eyes didn’t leave her face even for a moment, until he gave the weapon to Fahrenheit saying, “Better? Now go.” And as he looked back at her, “I think I can handle her.”

Aina really wanted to say, 'I wouldn’t be so sure about that,' but something about the rasp in his low voice detonated deep inside so  _hard_  her legs’ muscles tensed into rock and she found herself biting her lip white and suddenly incapable of controlling her own breathing. This was the end of the line for her.

“Jealous?” she asked as soon as the door closed behind Fahrenheit. Hancock shrugged.

“Maybe of you. She’s gay.”

“Huh.” Aina looked around at the door with an intrigued smile playing on her lips. “You wanna call her back in?”

And there it was—the second time she managed to throw him off his game. She was getting good at this. “You serious?” he said with some real shock written all across his face. She enjoyed it for a second before replying:

“What? I can appreciate a good woman,” as she looked back at the door again with her eyebrow raised. Then she shifted her gaze back to Hancock and threw him another one of her half-smiles. He moved on from surprise and was now hanging somewhere between overwhelming lust and something like disbelief with a hint of indecision.

“Maybe next time,” he breathed and leaned in and as their lips clashed, Aina felt her thinking abilities fly out the window. His strong hands grabbed at her waist as he pulled her in, and she put hers on his face, and it all felt... important, like there was still a possibility of him letting her go and kicking her out.

But then she pulled away herself, mind blank, and with her lips still parted she ran her fingers down his cheeks, taking in every crevice and strip of his skin… or what was left of it. He let her do that for a bit, then, gently brushing his thumb against her lips, asked, very softly, “You okay with it?” and somehow it felt like it was about more than just his looks or race. It didn’t matter though; at this point, she was liable to let him do everything and anything he wanted. She nodded mindlessly, already focused on his lips again, and she reached up as he leaned in again; they kissed for she didn’t even know how long before they pulled back and just stared at each other again. There was something in his gaze, though she had no idea how she was finding anything in those black eyes of his, but there  _was_  something… Lust and excitement, of course, but something deeper, hidden beneath, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she seemed to know with absurd certainty it was crying out for her not to let him go… Or maybe she was just projecting.

Aina took a step back, and with the absolute last of her sanity, glancing at the door again, slowly removed the ten-millimeter from her holster and the Pip-Boy from her arm and put them on the table, much to Hancock’s amusement. There was a short moment of a stalemate: he stared at her like an animal and she allowed herself to melt under that gaze, but still a little something like a blockade of years and years of socially induced propriety kept her from following her deepest desire of jumping his bones right there and then. And then her gaze fell to his lips, those thin, barely visible lines left over from what was surely once a lively reddish color of blood and lust, and in that very second, it was as if she gave a silent go-ahead, ‘cause Hancock grabbed her head and turned it up to meet him as he locked them in a heated kiss. This one was different from before, a clear prelude to what was about to happen, so naturally lustful it seemed calculated to induce in her a state of hazed arousal. Aina wrapped her arms around his neck, the edge of his coat’s collar brushing against her jumpsuit with a quiet, perceptible scrape; she pushed up to him, as hungry for what he was giving her as he was to give it. They fell hard against the wall. Hancock spun her around with a move simultaneously so controlled and erratic her heart fluttered with the thrill. He pressed her face-first against the bare bricks and moist-smelling plaster with his entire body, clearly spending a lot of effort trying not to grind against her as he brushed her hair aside and pulled her coat down, and put his mouth on her neck just above the jumpsuit’s edge. She managed to stifle a moan into a breathy grunt, just barely, and with the leather of her coat already hanging loose off of her elbows, she reached back blindly to cup his groin in her hand. Hancock let out the hottest of gasps into her ear as she began palming him, helping him unzip the jumpsuit with her other hand, so that he could push his down her pants. His skin felt rough and calloused against her most delicate one, and warm, oh, so warm as it steadily made its way down to finally find her swollen spot.

She bucked her hips and her back arched involuntarily, but Hancock just pressed her to the wall harder and she was completely at his mercy. Her head fell back to his shoulder, tears marked the edges of her eyes, and her hand just couldn’t find a rhythm as he worked wonders with his fingers and nibbled at her ear. She wanted to ride him. It didn’t matter if it’d be his fingers, his dick, or his face. All she wanted in that very moment was to bring herself to completion grinding her hips against something, against  _him_. Instead, she could only let him please her as he thought right and hope for the best, and maybe arch herself impossibly to kiss him over her shoulder. Hancock let his tongue slip inside her mouth, somehow not losing the rhythm he set for his fingers, and only at this moment, she finally, fully felt it… The taste. Oh, the taste. There was something slightly tart to it, like his saliva was pricking at her tongue with tiny needles, all laid on fresh water with a hint of smoke and alcohol… but there was something underneath all that, like a promise of sweetness, and Aina found herself reaching deeper and hungrier with each kiss trying to find that one sensation. Her fingers clenched on his neck until she could feel flecks of his skin under her nails, but he didn’t even budge. It was like he was entirely focused on her, in that moment existing only for her pleasure, like he had lost all awareness of his own body and instead fused with hers on a deeper, emotional level. It didn’t seem to matter to him how much she kissed him or what pain she caused him—all he cared about was bringing her to the very edge of the pleasure she’d longed for for so long… and then leaving her there.

She felt his grin against her cheek as she gave a loud groan and rocked her hips trying to get off on his suddenly unmoving hand while he simply cupped her mound and only pressed his palm against her. Her breath was heavy with excitement and spattered with little pleading moans, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed tormenting her. It was so clear it almost hurt all on its own, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter ‘cause she really just wanted him to continue and she was willing to do anything for that.

“Oh, please, please…” she moaned into his mouth, arching herself again to reach for his lips.

“Hmm?” he murmured as he masterfully kept his smug smile just, just next to hers. “Yes?”

“For fuck’s sake…” There were no words for how much she hated him in that moment. She bucked her hips again, but to no avail. “Please, fuck, please put ‘em in and make me come, will ya?”

Hancock’s grin widened and as he pushed his hand even further down and continued the shiver-generating crusade down her neck, Aina became putty in his arms, losing herself in that pleasure. But that was the easy part. Because as soon as he bit down on her shoulder and brought her to the violent, wet orgasm, he spun her around again and gently placed her against the side table so she wouldn’t fall if her shaky legs suddenly decided to give in. His hand was slightly glistening, leaving a faint trail behind as he ran it, slowly, up and down her bared body. Taking it in.

He gave her a moment to catch her breath before he began kissing her again, with the same ravenous hunger she’d seen in his eyes before. And Aina gave in again. There was no point in fighting this anymore. Besides, she could kill for another taste of that mouth of his. Hell. She  _did_ kill for it.

Growing more desperate by the second, she let her hands now roam his body in search of something to remove first. And through the haze of his addictive kiss and the hotness of his breath it slowly became apparent there was no such thing.

“Mm, wait a second,” she mumbled, pulling away from him to take a good look at his outfit. Shit. This would be harder than she thought. At least he lost the tricorn hat somewhere in the heated commotion.

“Let me help you with that,” he replied with a smile. He took off his red coat, somehow managing to do that a bit like a stripper and to make her thrill run even higher. Aina grabbed his sash and pulled him closer, reveling in the feeling of his firm body pressing her against the table; now the gears in her head were lazily coming back to life as she first undid the belt he wore across his torso, and then fumbled with the sash of stars and stripes as Hancock watched her slightly uncoordinated movements with benign amusement.

Finally, the sash fell to the floor, soon followed by the blue undercoat and the shirt, and then Hancock was standing before her in just his leather pants, and Aina couldn’t help but stare and run her fingers down his torso. He wasn’t buff, exactly, not like Nate was after his army service and trainings and months spent in Power Armor, but Hancock was clearly underfed and that, combined with the incredible thinness of his burnt skin made every muscle he had visible in an eerie, unnatural way. Abnormal way. Still turned her on, though, until there was something coolly wet between her thighs at every move.

And after she filled her fingertips with the sensation of his irradiated skin and her eyes with that irrationally incredible view of his bare chest and the wiry lines of his tendons twitching slightly beneath it, as he watched her with his breath getting quicker with every passing second and his hands squeezing at her waist ever so harder, she placed a kiss on his shoulder and moved up onto his neck, while her hands ran down his torso towards the hem of his pants, nails brushing slightly against his skin. He grabbed them with a hiss.

“Hey, no scratching…” he muttered with his lips already so close to hers she could taste the smoke on his breath. She bit into them gently by the way of apology, and then kissed him wildly and deeply. Hancock seemed to give in and forget the pain, but it turned out it was she who forgot herself, because she didn’t even notice when he slipped her coat off of her other arm and then wrapped it around her wrists and trapped it between her and the table. “Stay like this.”

She could move at every moment, of course, but she decided against it, simply because he asked her not to. God, it was truly terrifying, the kind of things she’d do for…

“I’m gonna show you why I like these pants,” he said with a roguish smile before taking a step back with his eyes locked with hers. Then he slowly looked down and she followed his gaze like a puppet, and watched, with the heat of the thrill playing around with her entrails, with her lungs unable to keep up with it, as he slowly undid them… and then just kept on going until the opening reached a point deep between his legs. And Aina honestly couldn’t tell if she was more shocked by that or by what was already peeking out of the slit, but her breathing wasn’t even close to slowing down either way. Hancock threw her another pleased look, perfectly aware of the effect he had on her, and pulled the leather down just enough to uncover everything. Aina let out a deeper breath that was dangerously close to a gasp, and she felt the shivers again, but this time there was nervousness to the thrill. She honestly didn’t know how she was going to fit him in there. The man was shameless, but by God, he had  _nothing_  to be ashamed about.

“Now,” he said again, grinning proudly as his gaze fell to her clothes, “let  _me_  figure out how to take this thing off…”

Aina laughed softly. “You’re gonna have to let me move for that,” she explained in as matter-of-fact of a voice as she could muster when she was returning Hancock’s contagious smile.

“Hmm… In that case, maybe just a second.” He looked her up and down,  _slowly_. “Mm. That’s a nice view. Though I have to ask, why aren’t you wearing a bra? This jumpsuit doesn’t seem… gentle.”

She shrugged. “It’s better than sleeping with my breasts confined.” Then after another split second of him taking in every inch of her body he managed to uncover so far and her biting her lip, passing glances at what he had in store for her, “Are  _you_  gonna be gentle?”

Hancock’s smile changed into something more reassuring as he came closer again and placed a surprisingly restrained kiss on her lips before moving down and saying, “You bet.” And when his mouth was trailing caresses and kisses down her neck, sending wave after wave of shivers down her back until she got such goosebumps she was sure her skin felt just like his, she almost gave in fully and completely, except for one thing still nagging at the back of her head. It took her slowed, sluggish mind a bit to pinpoint it.

“Fuck…” escaped her lips when she finally figured it out and felt like crying and laughing awkwardly at the same time.

“Hmm?” Hancock murmured lengthily against her neck, not easing up even for a second.

Aina was silent for a bit while she gathered the courage to say that stupid thing that had her mind in a relentless choke-hold. “I just realized I don’t even know your first name…”

She could feel his smile against her skin. She dreamed of hiding her face in her hands, but those were still entwined in the coat trapped between her and the table, and with Hancock now pressing on her, there was no way she could free them. She only hoped he wouldn’t… Goddammit.

Hancock brushed his lips against her neck on his way up before looking straight into her eyes. Aina felt the heat creeping up to her cheeks. God-fucking-dammit.

“It’s John,” he breathed before kissing her again with such unbridled desire she immediately forgot what she was flustered about as the warmth emanating from her lower abdomen overcame her entire body again. She found herself reaching for his lips and their peculiar taste again, and barely managed to force herself to stop when he, in turn, pulled back. He began undressing her, for real this time, starting with undoing the mess of her coat and hands. He scoffed softly as a half-smile crept up onto his lips again. “Well, while we’re at it, I don’t know yours either.”

She couldn’t help but softly laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s Aina.”

“Well then, Aina, let’s get you out of this thing.” Hancock allowed himself just another minute of feeding his eyes and hands on her breasts and waist, until finally, he turned her around to face the table. She hung her head down with her breath so heavy it was almost making her dizzy, and she shut her eyes. She could now only feel the table digging into her pelvis and Hancock’s hard manhood against her thighs as his hands pulled down her jumpsuit from her shoulders until it was falling freely from her hips. One of his rough palms moved up her spine accompanied by yet another shiver, pressing down harder the higher it got until she got the message and let him force her down onto the table. There was a moment as he removed the rest of her clothes till she stood there completely bare, that it occurred to her he really  _could_  do anything he wanted with her now and it felt… wrong, somehow. Being that vulnerable, so completely at his mercy, she was close to panicking when she realized to full extent how awfully quick this could get awfully  _bad_ , and she was already deciding to make a run for the gun when Hancock suddenly fell to his knees behind her and… Ohh, God. Oh, she was never, ever going to mistrust him again.

The sheer warmth of his tongue lapping up her wetness was enough to make her go crazy, but when his fingers came into play, Aina’s body went numb like a ragdoll. Thankfully, he didn’t torment her for too long, but when he stood up and positioned himself behind her, she said, “No!” and jumped to her feet before even thinking. She couldn’t tell if he was just surprised or scared he did something wrong.

“Sorry,” she breathed and came closer to him, putting her hands on his hot chest again. “I just… just wanna see you when you break me in.”

He grinned happily again, though still obviously not having fully regained his composure, and pulled her in for a kiss while also pushing her back against the table. Still glued to her lips, he cleared the space brushing the drugs off to the ground, put her up on there and spread her legs as wide as they would go, much to her arousal. But then the anxiousness kicked in, and for both of them, it seemed, because Hancock suddenly pulled back and looked at her closely.

“Wait, did you mean this is your first time?” he asked with his brow furrowed.

“With a man, in a  _really long fucking while_ … yeah.” There was no point in telling anything less but the truth. He was going to feel for himself soon enough just how long of a while that was.

“Good.” He played with her breasts for a bit while also getting himself hard again as she held on to his shoulders, feeling every twitch and contraction of the muscles beneath her fingers. “The way you said that, I thought you might be a virgin.”

“Would that bother you?” she whispered now, leaning in to kiss and trail her tongue up his neck, and he exhaled softly and threw his head back to allow her better access. His hand squeezed her waist as he was still beating himself off with the other, though it was clear he was more focused on the sensation she was giving him.

“’Course not,” he still managed to say in a fairly steady voice, somehow. Had to admire his self-control. “It’d just  _really_  change the way I’d do things to you.”

And again, as he lowered his tone when saying that, his raspy voice right next to her ear flooded her with another wave of shivers and desire. It took everything she had to do nothing but continue her work on his neck. She wanted him as much on the edge as she was when she finally let him in. More so, she wanted to  _bring_  him to that edge. And it was so easy, too, with how thin his skin was and how every time she pressed on his flesh a little harder made his entire body twitch in excitement.

She honestly expected at least an aftertaste or an occasional waft of burned flesh, being so close to him, but there was nothing of that sort. His skin had a bit of an acidic taste to it, but she was more liable to blame drugs for it rather than him being a Ghoul. Otherwise, it was perfectly regular—some salty sweat, a faint metallic sweetness in the depressions, and just plain nothing on the ridges. Oh, and he smelled a bit like pine and hay, too, for some reason.

“The way you said  _that_  made me wanna  _be_  a virgin for a second there,“ she said, nibbling at his ear and when he pretty much leaned into her, she knew he was near that edge. “But no matter. I promise I’m close enough.”

He squeezed her waist even more, his eyes closed, and the hand he had wrapped around his manhood was moving, it seemed, more desperately as she spoke. She saw all of that and felt a strange, but immensely satisfying rush. If this was how he felt when he was teasing her, she could get behind it. And then she put her lips to his again, and in the hottest, sweetest voice she could muster, she whispered, “Come in.”

Another dam gave in with a crash and Hancock pulled her in for another ravenous kiss, his hand latching on to the back of her neck and making it clear he had no intention of letting her go. She was so turned on she could barely stand it, and if his firmness was any indication, so was he. She put her hands on his face again, and again she marveled at the way his skin and jaw moved beneath her fingers as he breathed hot, heavy breaths and tasted her lips and tongue as if he couldn’t get enough of her just like she couldn’t get enough of him. Is that how it felt? Sexual unity?

He was erotic even when he took care of technicalities, swiping some saliva off his lips to put on the tip and spreading her to allow for her lust to wet the entrance; Aina couldn’t stop staring at his expression, his eyes looking down, his parted lips, his hairless brow slightly twitching as he touched himself. Everything about him, in that moment, was sexy. Even the bony ridge of what was left of his nose.

And then he placed his tip at her entrance and the thought of being so open and  _full_ again flooded her mind with excitement. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she looked down and watched in wordless wonder as he slowly, steadily pushed it in.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled along the way, “you  _are_  tight…”

She pulled him in for a kiss, just like that, just because she liked the way his lips moved as he spoke, and he must’ve mistaken it for a cue, because he suddenly pushed it in as far as it would go—which, granted, wasn’t  _very_  far… And Aina screamed a shriek of mixed pain and pleasure before she even registered what was happening.

After several long seconds of calming her down as he put his forehead against hers and whispered apologies, Hancock tried sliding out to give her some time to adjust, but after she’d clenched down on him in pain, every move felt like fire. And when she hissed and groaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders, Hancock, fresh out of options, probably in an attempt to take her mind off of it, said, “C’mon, it’s not  _that_  big.”

Aina scoffed in stifled laughter. “Yes! It is!” she replied and kissed him in that stupid smile. Then, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked down. “Okay. I am nothing if not persistent. Let’s try this again.”

She grabbed him this time—and found out it was impossible for her to close her fingers around him, which would probably explain the troubles they had—and put him in herself. This time Hancock took it even slower, moving back and forth several times, but proceeding steadily inside, spreading her more and more with each push until Aina was sure she was going to burst open. The moans escaping her lips grew only louder, and when Hancock finally reached the deepest point she had, she was so overwhelmed by it all, she couldn’t even moan or scream anymore, she just breathed heavily in and out, her head perched on his shoulder, taking in the scent of pine and hay and sweat. And only after what seemed like eternity passed and her insides finally loosened up to accommodate him, only then did Aina manage to look him again in the face.

He seemed pale, as much as he could with his skin being basically one huge scar, but there was a spark deep in his dark eyes which betrayed how much it took from him not to keep thrusting into her in mindless abandon.

“You okay?” she asked, brushing her thumb against his lips.

“Oh, yeah,” he reassured. “Just thought I was gonna lose myself for a second there, and not in a fun way. You?”

Aina nodded, though it didn’t feel very sincere, so she kissed him again to make up for it. And that seemed to be the last straw for him. He grabbed her by the jaw, pulled her in hungrily, while his other hand locked her hips in position as he started driving himself into her time after time. However fine Aina thought she was gonna be with it, her womanhood did not agree. Every move he made sent waves of unbearable pleasure and intolerable pain through her entire body. Every time he withdrew, she felt like he was taking layers of her insides with him. Then his hand slipped lower and grabbed her neck, choking her a bit—and for some reason she liked it even more. He forced her face up, put his lips on her collar bones and slowly made his way up, all the while thrusting into her with growing desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And all Aina could do was hold on tight to his shoulders and quietly, in barely audible whispers, beg him not to stop.

“Oh, God, please, John, more, more, yes, please…”

Every moment, every thrust was becoming the next one and the last one simultaneously, until Aina couldn’t sense the passage of time anymore. All she felt was Hancock and his body pressing close to hers, and his fingers around her neck, tightening a bit with each stroke, and his massive dick ravaging her entrails. In the throes of these sensations, she couldn’t even tell whether he was even there anymore or if his mind shut down as he focused solely on her warmth and tightness that still didn’t seem to give in to the assault. And so the pain continued, an undercurrent beneath the overwhelming pleasure exploding in her moans which she still, with the last of her senses, tried to stifle; and she loved that pain. And she couldn’t seem to remember if there ever was a time where there was none, and if there was and she could go back to it, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to.

Goddammit.

“Wait. Wait.” She pushed Hancock away, just a little bit, especially since she was still balancing on the edge of the side table and if he stepped away from her suddenly, she was pretty sure her legs wouldn’t be able to hold her. Tears pricked at her eyelids as she tried in vain to be rid of them before Hancock noticed.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice, his breath heavy and even raspier with excitement. And then it stopped, he stopped breathing altogether, and even with her eyes closed and head down, Aina knew he saw it. “Don’t tell me I hurt you?”

“No, no…” She shook her head, but soon realized she just fucked up the one perfectly good excuse for what was happening to her. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell him she just randomly remembered her dead husband and their two-hundred-year-old moments together, their last moments together, and the flood of those feelings mixed with these feelings, and how she realized that given the chance she would rather stay here and let Hancock ram her into the table than go back to her old life with Nate, and the betrayal… She couldn’t tell him that. Not in this moment, and possibly not ever. (She pushed the wild, hormone-induced fantasies of a life together with Hancock out of her mind.) But Hancock still looked at her worriedly and it was clear he wasn’t going to let this go. So what was she going to tell him?

“So, what happened?” He wiped off the tears that escaped her tightly closed eyelids. Goddammit. “Listen, if you wanna stop with this—”

“No. No.” She wrapped her legs around him, but he wouldn’t let her push him deeper inside, so she finally looked up at him. Nate’s face went past her eyes before Hancock’s was back in front of her again, and that almost sent a new wave of tears down her cheeks. God-fucking-dammit.

“Aina…” but seeing she wasn’t reacting, Hancock retreated back into his laid-back, joking self. “Hey, as much as I appreciate the sentiment,” he said brushing his hands up and down her thighs, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can stop, light a peace Jet, and part ways. No hard feelings.”

Get yourself together, girl. Nate’s dead. The echo of the shot rang out in her ears. Piercing, cold fear froze her bones. Come on, come on… Come on. She couldn’t tell Hancock. She couldn’t.

“Seriously,” he continued, coming a bit closer and rubbing his nose against her cheek as he reached for her lips. The bone scratched her skin and sent a shiver down her back. “I can take it. I’m a big boy.”

“Yes, you are,” she breathed, drawing him in for the kiss he was clearly pining for. She felt the smile on his lips and couldn’t help the one that bloomed on hers. He  _was_  contagious. But after they finally pulled away, he looked at her again, still expecting some sort of explanation. “Look, it’s fine. I just had a moment of weakness.”

“You second-guessing me?” he said jokingly. Aina laughed softly, though there was heat on her cheeks again. She needed to learn to be a better liar, and soon.

“Maybe a bit.” She put up her fingers. “Just… a little bit, like this?… I’m kidding. You just made me remember something bad for a second there. But I’m fine now. And I don’t want you to stop.”

“I feel ya,” he said, and it sounded like way more than just understanding what she said and, well, having his hands all over her again. “Though I think we’re gonna have to start again.” He slipped out of her to show her what he meant.

Aina smiled sympathetically. “Well, it can’t be easy to keep this huge thing up for long. Is that why you were so pale earlier?”

And Hancock, as expected, just laughed and said, “Oh, come here, you little vixen.” And as he reached for her lips again, his hands moved down her hips and he lifted her off the table. Aina, caught off guard, let out a little scream as she latched on to him, much to his amusement.

“You’re having way too much fun here,” she murmured with reproach.

“I’d say not enough,” he grinned, kissing her again as they moved towards the couch. Aina pulled away as soon as she could force herself to.

“You better look where we’re going,” she said. “I survived so much shit, it’d be insulting to die killed by the corner of a coffee table.”

“Trust issues?” he asked with that goddamn roguish half-smile again, and then simply lunged himself on the couch with Aina still on top of him and trying to stifle another shriek. Somehow they survived, though; Hancock laughed like a madman, so Aina smacked his chest, only making him laugh more. Idiot. Her gaze fell on her ten-millimeter still miraculously lying on the table, even though she was pretty sure Hancock’s leg rattled it on the way down.

“Aw, c’mon, I’m not that bad, am I?” he said, his hands already hard at work on her body, as he followed her gaze. If he believed she was thinking of shooting him, he was taking it surprisingly well. Truth was, though, even if she wanted to reach for it, he could probably easily wrestle the gun out of her hand and then slash her throat with the knife she knew he still had sheathed behind his back. Somehow, the realization made her want him even more. So after a while of them finding a fairly comfortable position on the couch, she started moving her hips, brushing against his dick, and then fell on top of him and placed small kisses on his thin lips.

“Why so gentle?” he murmured between one and another. Aina, with a single “hmph”, reached down to wrap her fingers around his dick as hard as she could, successfully tearing a hiss from his lips. “Hey, careful there.”

“’Why so gentle?’, you said,” she murmured straight into his mouth, but he didn’t seem to be listening as she lessened her grip on his manhood and began to caress it up and down. He let himself get lost in the feeling for a minute before sliding his hands up from her waist to her face and pulling her down to kiss her—a hard, hungry, insatiated kiss that made her wet again as little moans escaped from her throat just to be lost in his mouth. She cupped his dick and slid it between her lower lips, spreading that wetness all over it, reveling in the sensation his scarred skin left on her womanhood, and Hancock let out a breath that sounded like a soft moan. And she just kept pleasing herself with it until he, unable to take it anymore, grabbed her hips and pulled her up to ride it. Another shiver of mixed fear and excitement rushed through her. It was going to hurt again, she was sure of it. But… Looking down at Hancock lying under her, the way his lips were parted, skin glistening with sweat here and there, and the way his black eyes stared at her and her body, it didn’t matter. It was going to hurt him, too, and if he could brush that aside, so could she.

One leg on the floor, the other curled up between him and the back of the couch, Aina slowly sat on him, carefully guiding him inside. There it was: the fullness, the closeness, the sharp stings of pain as he opened her again. Hancock dipped himself in her with a hiss as she breathed quick, deep breaths interrupted by soft stifled moans. Once he was all inside, she gave herself a few seconds to get used to him before she began moving, as best she could when she didn’t really know how and every time she went up she felt like he was going to turn her inside out. She really tried not to let on, but the moans escaping her lips and the way she furrowed her brow must’ve given her away, because at some point, Hancock said:

“Okay now, come here,” and then reached up and grabbed the back of her neck to pull her down on top of him. She let her hands roam his torso, felt around the depressions in his skin and between his muscles before she finally settled down on his chest. Hancock kissed her again, this time much more gently and sensually than before, while he found a foothold, and then he began moving, spreading her even more than she ever thought possible. Aina latched onto his shoulders again and let herself get lost in his lips as to not scream out again as Hancock wrapped his arms around her. He was softly moaning himself, staring into her face, watching—no, studying the miniscule changes in her expression to gauge when she’d be ready for more as he slowly, thoroughly slid in and out of her. It was still overwhelming, still terrifying, how it seemed like he was gonna pull her insides out of her, but when he was the one moving, somehow, it also felt so much better. Enough that she closed her eyes and focused on it with her mouth wide open in heavy breaths.

So Hancock kissed her again, holding her close and steadily picking up the pace, until he was ramming himself inside her, breathing through gritted teeth in effort, though grunts of pleasure also escaped his throat with every thrust. It all contributed to her mind taking a leave of absence as she abandoned herself to him, but it was the sensation from his manhood hitting her greatest depths again and again that truly sent her over the edge. Not even five minutes passed since he took over that Aina whispered, “Oh God, I’m gonna—”, then buried her face deep between his shoulder and neck to muffle the rising moans and the imminent scream as her hands desperately sought for something to clench on. They were too slow, the wave of pleasure came over her suddenly, almost unexpectedly, her whole body shook under the assault, and all she could do was hold on to Hancock for dear life and try not to scream loud enough for them to hear her at the Third Rail.

Hancock stopped moving for the moment, to let her deal with it without more sensations coming in. When she could move again, when she actually  _felt_  her body again, she raised her head up from his shoulder only to hear his small hisses. Turned out, she managed to grab the edge of the couch with one hand, but the other dug its fingers into Hancock’s arm hard enough to break his thin skin and draw blood. Aina pulled away in surprise.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, dipping deeper into shock before finally descending somewhere in the vicinity of terror as her mind awoke enough to take in the view of red dripping from her fingers. “Holy fuck, I’m so sorry…”

Hancock took a look at the four wounds in a near perfect row. “Eh, it happens.”

“It  _happens_?!”

“Yeah. This is not the first blood this couch has seen. At least this one’s for a good reason.”

Aina decided not to ask. Instead, she watched as he grabbed the stimpak from the table and injected it right next to the cuts. He hissed quietly along with the syringe. The wounds scabbed over in the matter of seconds and then strips of tissue began growing from the sides to close them.

“See? Gonna be fine in no time. Now come back here…” Hancock threw the syringe away and reached for her lips again, sitting up and pressing himself against her, which somehow made him push himself even deeper inside, well beyond her point of comfort. She let out a painful groan into his mouth, so he pulled them back down again. It still reminded her very obviously of how his manhood felt inside, and as the fear for his well-being cleared from her mind, arousal came forth again, and she gave in to it without a second thought. Hancock kissed her deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and the way he let out soft moans along with hers and how his fingers clenched on her hair in excitement, and how his other hand found hers to prevent her from scratching him again, trailing the blood all along his forearm and wrist—it was almost enough to make her come again.

And then he was moving again, and Aina threw her head back in pleasure, but he pulled her back down by the hair. “I said ‘come here,’” he mumbled before kissing her again and then pressing his hand against her lips. Aina let her free one fall from his wrist, spreading the blood on his chest until eventually putting it on the armrest he was leaning against. Just in case.

Hancock reached the pace he’d used to make her come within seconds, all the while with his hand on her lips and the other in her hair making sure she couldn’t escape the hold. Overwhelmed by the sensation, Aina just surrendered. It was all way too much for anything else. His dick driving itself deep inside, fucking her at a well-established rhythm, the sound of Hancock’s little moans and grunts, the pain and the pleasure mixing together somewhere beneath her navel and then spreading all across her body… He could do whatever he wanted to her and she’d still thank him for it.

She came two more times before he finally got bored or tired with pushing upwards and turned them around with one swift move, making it clear it was not the first time he did that. But Aina was, at this point, unable to comprehend that. She let him slip his arms under her knees and pull her hips off the couch, until the only reason she hadn’t fallen to the ground yet were his hands holding her hips up to him. There was a faint recollection somewhere in the parts of her mind she’d cordoned off to be able to focus on the here and now, a recollection which suggested what this sort of position was going to do to her, but by the time it reached her, it was too late. Hancock drove himself inside in one smooth stroke, and Aina barely managed to press her hands against her mouth before the scream broke free.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Hancock muttered and she could see he was barely there as well. Whether it was the effort he put in this, as indicated by the layer of sweat that had spread almost all over his body, or the sheer pleasure, his mind was shutting off just as much as hers was. He was close. And that made her want to give him even more. So she raised to her elbows and pushed against him as far as she could go, and a lengthy moan pierced the air as she withstood the pain in hope her insides would once again adjust to accommodate him. Him and his fucking battering ram. What the hell was she thinking when she came on to him?

“Stop it, woman,” he said, pulling back, but she wouldn’t let him go far. “Stop it. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Don’t worry, I got ya.”

He looked her straight in the eye as he said that, and she just had to wrap her legs around him and pull herself up to kiss him. Hancock spread his knees on the floor so as not to lose his balance, and then raised her a bit from himself and fucked her just like that, in the air. Aina held on to him and kissed his lips, ears, neck, reveling in the sounds that still escaped his lips. Somehow, madly, she kept reaching new and new levels of lust with him. Right now, all she wanted was to give him release. She traced his jugular and the line of his jaw on the way up, until she reached his ear. She bit it gently. “Use me,” she whispered hotly.

Hancock groaned harder than ever before and threw her back on the couch. Holding her up with one hand, he pushed both her legs to one side with the other, and then just latched onto her waist, dug his fingers into her pelvis, and fucked her passionately, frantically, desperately. He took her down and used her for his pleasure just like she wanted him to. The pain was still there, of course, but somehow it didn’t matter. All that mattered was his expression of complete bliss, the way he shut his eyes to focus on what she was giving him, the way drops of sweat trickled down his nose and chin just to hit her skin and fall to the sides. She helped him any way she could. She was too afraid to try and clench her walls, but she pushed back against him as well as she could and soon the stings of pain turned into numbness and all that she could get off on now were the explosions of pleasure when he hit her very end and the sensation of his thrusts only. Hancock gave her both in rapid succession, fucking her, it seemed, to the rhythm of her own racing heart. She forgot all but him; suddenly, she didn’t know anymore why she wasn’t supposed to scream or moan. So she did both and called his name, and begged, and jabbered senselessly. The breaks were cut. It was only him.

“Oh, John, John, John… Yes, John, fuck, John, yes, yes… Do it, do me, please, don’t stop, faster…”

“Faster?” The surprise, clear in his voice, made him stop for a second. He took the moment to perch her up on his knee to wipe the sweat off his face. Since he was already out of her at this point, Aina sat up and spread some saliva on her palm and blew on it as she reached for his manhood. He gasped when the cool touched his heated skin. He was incredibly hot to the touch even before they’d started, but now Aina was honestly surprised he didn’t sizzle when she touched him with a wet hand.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She placed a kiss on his lips, but he was panting so much he couldn’t possibly repay her. “As much as I’d love it, I don’t think it’d be humanly possible.”

Hancock suddenly burst out laughing. “Well,” he said between one gasp and another, “I ain’t human.” And as Aina stared at him, trying to comprehend how he could just go ahead and use his race as an unbeatable argument, he motioned to the couch and plainly ordered, “Get back down there.”

Aina, of course, complied, and let him put her legs all the way up on his shoulders, as all the sounds were drowned out by the quickening beating of her heart. Hancock suddenly seemed all about doing it right: he found a foothold again, placed her against the armrest of the couch, raised her hips to meet him as he supported himself with arms on both her sides. He took a short moment to look her straight in the eyes as if to make sure she was certain about it, and when she didn’t make a move or say a word to stop him, he balanced on one hand in no small part thanks to her supporting him, brusquely spit on the other’s palm and rubbed it all over his dick and her before putting it in again. Aina gasped. She was spread open already, of course, but the position he had her in made him reach just about as deep as he’d thrust just before without any effort. Hancock grinned, seeing her wide-eyed reaction, but he clearly wasn’t about to stop now unless she begged him to. And after finding his balance and making sure it would hold, he began thrusting. He built up the pace in much the same way he did so far, but just went on and on, until he fucked her faster than she ever expected anyone to be able to. And he just stayed there, his legs working visibly even underneath his pants, his chest and arms tensed, his abdominal muscles flexing in an insanely odd way as he stared at her with pride, reveling in her shock and pleasure and honest fear that her insides were never going to get back to their original shape again. Her moans, at first matching his thrusts, now only merged together. Incapable of comprehending the sensations coming from her abdomen, Aina focused instead on the little details: his parted lips, how his hot skin and working muscles felt under her fingers, wiping the sweat off his face before it ever got a chance to fall on hers, trying to meet his fiery gaze. Which wasn’t at all that easy, when her eyes seemed intent on watching everything at the same time and not as content as she was with just studying the lines of his scarring. Somewhere through all that haze and blur a realization emerged and hit her in the face: she was having wild sex with a Ghoul. A terribly irradiated person, someone who wasn’t even human anymore, and not all that different from the mindless monsters she shot apart into pieces all around the city. And now she was letting one push himself into her, reaching parts she only let her husband reach before. This wasn’t right. This was abnormal.

But hard on the heels of that realization came something else, something immense, pushing out any and all thought she had left in her mind, and Aina allowed it to embrace her, her fingers twitching, the view of Hancock’s pale, scarred face coming clear before her eyes again as he quickly grabbed her wrists and pushed them against the couch so she couldn’t hurt him again; he was still ramming his dick into her at the same impossible pace, but it was now harder, and along with the low grunts escaping his clenched teeth it was a clear indication Hancock was just as close as her. And that ultimately pushed her over the edge and she climaxed, hard, harder than she’d ever had, writhing underneath him, as a scream escaped her lips, her hips bucked and her cunt enveloped him whole. John groaned loudly; his arms gave in to the dead weight he’d become in that moment and they both fell to the couch, Aina’s head still thrown back, while John was burying his in her neck, her back still arched while John was pushing in the last few strokes, emptying himself into her. And then with another groan, he was done. Aina wrapped her legs around him, her ankles brushing against his surprisingly cold back and ass which apparently got out of his pants somewhere along the way. That was some fine ass, too, by the way. All that reached her slowly as her shallow breathing was reaching a rhythm at which she actually  _could_  get oxygen, even with John pressing on her chest. Which didn’t last long, either: after a couple of minutes he finally got enough control back over his body that he perched himself up on his elbows and looked her in the eye. And then they both laughed like idiots.

“So, was that to your liking, milady?” he said, panting. Aina laughed even harder, but didn’t answer. Another realization was slowly reaching her through the haze of the recent orgasm.

“Did you just come inside me…?” she asked, not with reproach or disapproval, but just to make sure. She didn’t get to see if John received it the same way, because he, still apparently not feeling like getting up, started sliding down, kissing every inch of her skin on his way.

“Don’t worry,” he said between one and another. “I’m barren like the Glowing Sea.”

“Wait, what are you—” she began, but then he slid down her mound and put his lips to hers and with how sensitive she still was, it felt like a lightning strike. “Oh, my GOD.”

She could feel him smiling against her as he licked her clean, his tongue moving up and down, very slowly and carefully as to not miss a single spot. She was twitching and writhing; and she probably would’ve broke off what was left of his nose with her hips, too, if he wasn’t holding her down with his hands interlocked on her abdomen.

“My God, John, stop…” she pleaded. She could feel his semen flowing out of her, she could feel him licking it off, but he didn’t listen. Her newfound sensitivity made every flick of his tongue send waves and waves of warm trembles up her body. But when she got used to that, she felt something else, too. The tang of his saliva, the one she felt picking at her mouth before, was now dancing everywhere he kissed and following like a stingy trail after every brush of his tongue. And every shiver he sent up was followed by an echo, a procession of smaller ones. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before (how could she not have felt it before?), and soon she allowed herself to get lost in that, too. The fact he wasn’t bumping against her with his nose was just an added bonus.

God, everything this man did to her today was as new and amazing to her as though she truly was a virgin, even this. She placed her hand on the back of his skull and guided him a little higher. She really wanted to feel that tang on her… Oh, brother. Ohh…

But when he brought fingers into play again, she extracted her hips from between his arms and moved away, saying, “Oh, no, no, I don’t think can handle coming again.” John, of course, laughed, and sat up. Aina let her legs, still kind of shaky, fall off the couch and pulled herself to an upright position, too. Hancock reached for a cigarette. She traced her fingers down the fresh, red scars on his arm.

“Priceless, how ‘oh, shit, sorry’ was the first thing out of your mouth,” he chuckled, looking for a lighter.

“Oh, shut up,” Aina said with another laugh before getting up and gathering her clothes to get dressed. As she came back for her gun, she couldn’t help but throw Hancock another look, as he sat there, shirtless, though he had done up his pants somewhere in the meantime, and smoked his cigarette. She threw his hat to him, and he chucked it on, a bit cocked to the side, with a smile. Oh, that roguish smile of his.

“You leaving already?” he asked with a half-serious disappointment as she put on her coat.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” she replied, locking the Pip-Boy on her wrist again to look at the actual time. Well, at least it was earlier than she thought. She still had a few hours of light left. “Why? You gonna miss me?”

“Heh. You know it, sister.”

Aina stifled the sudden urge to get in his lap again and maybe at least share that cigarette. Instead, she walked through the double door; Fahrenheit threw her an odd look as she passed by, but Aina ignored her and without stopping, without even so much as a word, took her rifle out of Fahrenheit’s hands and put it back on her shoulder again. Somehow, the weight of it made it easier to walk away, leave it behind. But she did notice something strange: her mind, even the Pre-War parts of it, was now silent and content. So maybe that wasn’t that terrible after all. Maybe it wasn’t abnormal.


End file.
